by Jack Harbon
The Brother
Encounters #2
Jack Harbon
Copyright © 2020 by Jack Harbon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
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Chapter 1
I’ve forgotten how goddamn ugly this town is until Landry and I are driving through the streets of Bluehill. It might be all the other cities we’ve visited that are clouding my judgment—after traveling through Vermont during the fall, nothing can really compete—but Bluehill doesn’t hold a candle to even some of the most boring flyover country we’ve seen.
“Home sweet home,” Landry says, glancing at me with a smirk. She’s trolling me because she knows how much I hate it here, and I refuse to give her the satisfaction of getting under my skin.
“It’s beautiful,” I reply, putting a hand over my heart like I’m some woman waiting for her husband to return from the war. “How I’ve missed this place…”
“Girl, bye!” Landry snickers and rolls her brown eyes, one hand on the steering wheel and the other around her phone. While we wait at the light on Henderson Ave, the one notorious for taking seven goddamn years to turn green, she scrolls through the comments on our channel.
“They’re living for the last video of the series,” she replies, glancing up at me with pride on her face. “I told you they would.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, but this time I can’t mask my true emotions. In no time flat, I’m smiling just as wide as she is.
We started our channel ten years ago, and back then, it was just a way for Landry and me to indulge in our narcissistic wannabe Kubrick tendencies with our short films. We’d spend every day in Spanish class writing out scripts, trashing plots that didn’t make sense (which was most of them), and organizing a little cast of our classmates to help star in our productions.
When we graduated from college a handful of years later, we took the channel in a new direction. Less David Lynch and more David Dobrik, shifting our focus to vlogs, challenges, and the occasional blitzed out of our fucking minds mukbang. To our surprise, people latched onto that more than they ever did our knockoff Rear Window-level dramas, and we’ve been riding this wave for the past three years.
It’s been enough of a financial profit that when the first big boom hit, I dropped out of college and decided to put all my energy into the channel. Mom wasn’t happy about it—holy fuck was she upset with me—but I knew it in my gut. There was no question, no other outcome that could result other than me throwing myself into this fully. So, I did, and together, Landry and I made this our full-time job. The kind of job that allows us to spend the past three months traveling the country, experiencing all kinds of local culture. From Decaro’s in Alton to Barney’s Burger Barn in Sweet Rose, the food we ate was hands down the best part of the trip.
But now it’s back to Bluehill, at least until we can find something else reckless to spend months of our lives doing.
There’s a honk behind us, and I look up at the light that’s finally changed. Landry’s face contorts and she rolls down her window to flip the guy off behind us. Just like that, it’s obvious. We’re home.
There’s a red convertible parked in my driveway when Landry pulls up to the curb. She glances at me, and she smiles that toothy grin at me knowingly. “Uh oh,” is all she says, brushing a micro braid behind her ear and looking between me and the car.
“The fuck is he doing here?” I groan, reluctant to get out of the car. I don’t want to see him. I already don’t want to be back in this Podunk little town. I don’t need Garrett around on top of everything else right now.
“Good luck, my man. Wouldn’t wanna be ya.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” I reach into the back of Landry’s Camry and grab my bag, stepping out into the driveway and eyeing the car like it owes me money. The petty side of me wants to bump into it, ding it and ruin its perfection in some way. Instead, I march up to the front door, twist my key in the lock, and step inside.
Three months isn’t that long in the grand scheme of things, but when you spend all that time sleeping in a car or random beds in hotels, it feels like an eternity. The house feels different. Mom found a new candle, something floral instead of the usual cinnamon and apple she burns in the living room. They’ve replaced the rug in the foyer, and Samuel must’ve finally finished the table he was working on in the garage, because I spot a new one in the dining room.
It’s Uncanny Valley here.
Rather than standing here trying to parse out what’s been changed, I head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before going to my room. That’s where I find Garrett wearing fuck all, back muscles flexing as he rifles through the refrigerator. A pair of mesh shorts hang from his hips, and my eyes travel down them, over the muscular curve of his ass. Immediately, I swallow hard and peel my gaze away. His humming stops when he spins around to find me staring at him.
“Jesus Christ,” he nearly shouts, stepping back and bumping into the fridge door. A little scare serves him right on account of how much I hate him. He pulls out an earbud and says, “What the hell, Noel.”
It’s got a nice ring to it, I must admit.
“Surprise,” I say with very little enthusiasm. Still, I’m amused at how scared he was. Garrett, who has it all figured out, with all the money and success in the world, scared by me just standing there. I relish in the momentary fear on his face, ignoring the fact that he looks even better with stubble that’s the same color as the silky dark locks on his head.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s my mom’s house,” I say, setting my bag down on the island counter.
“I guess I just meant that I’m surprised it’s been three months already.”
I brush past him to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, again ignoring that he’s somehow gotten even more jacked than he was before. It’s probably because he wants more attention from girls. That sounds exactly like something he’d do, growing a beard and putting on more bulk. Kinda cringe if you ask me.
“Did you miss me?” I ask sarcastically, looking his direction. His face contorts and he only lets out a single snort of a laugh. “Asked and answered,” I mutter. Already eager to get out of his presence, I grab my bag and head upstairs, pretending I don’t hear him call after me.
“Noel, wait up!”
I do no such thing, climbing the stairs and heading to my old room. He yells out after me again, and a moment later, I hear him following me up the staircase. I only have a moment to process my bedroom when he’s at my side.
“The fuck?”
It looks nothing like I left it. Someone’s been staying here judging by the laundry in my hamper, the unmade bed, and gym bag in the corner. Sure, I moved out of my Mom’s house two years ago, but when I visited a few months prior, all of my shit had been exactly where I’d left it. But not anymore. Garrett’s clearly moved in.
“I was trying to tell you,” he says, annoyed, which is kind of funny because I didn’t steal his bedroom while he was away. “Dad and Elizabeth let me stay here.”
“Okay, but why? Did you lose your house or something?” The thought kind of warms my heart.
“No, I didn’t lose my hou
se, Noel. I actually have a steady income, remember? I’m staying here until I get the keys to the new house I just bought.” He says it so smugly, like he knows it’ll piss me off. And he’s right.
Garrett loves to take any chance to rub it in my face just how successful he is. He loves to remind me that he’s the one that graduated from Purdue at the top of his class and got fast-tracked to the plant manager of some textile manufacturer his dad Samuel worked at before he was accepted for disability benefits. It’s like he needs to bring it up every time we’re around each other, just to get me heated.
What’s worse is when Mom does it. She’s so proud of him, and she hasn’t even known him for more than a couple years. To her, he’s the prosperous one. The son that isn’t really her son who made a name for himself. He did what I couldn’t. He graduated rather than dropping out. He worked hard rather than sitting in front of a camera like me.
And now he’s buying his first house.
“I didn’t even know you were buying one.”
“Dad talks about it all the time. You would’ve known if you visited more.”
There’s judgement in his voice. A little too much for my liking, and rather than focusing on the guilt stirring in the pit of my stomach, I focus on my annoyance with him. “I know this might seem crazy to you, but I don’t keep tabs on you like that, bro. I just might be the only one who isn’t all that interested in hearing about all the money you make or seeing all the girls in bikinis you have posing with you on your car.”
His Instagram account looks like it was curated by the final boss in some heteronormative horror game. He’s the Mr. X of straight dudes.
“Anyways, I really don’t care why you’re here. Just get your shit off my bed so I can have my room back,” I say.
“The guest room is five feet away,” he replies.
“Awesome, then you won’t have to carry all your things very far.”
“I’m not carrying anything. Dad and Elizabeth said I can use this room until my house is ready, and it’s not ready yet. Sorry, kid.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. Just as quickly, I shove him off of me.
“Wait until I tell Mom. Let’s see what she has to say.”
Garrett puts his hands in the air, a cocky smile on his face. “Sure. Let’s see.”
God, what I wouldn’t give to chokeslam this goddamn asshole through the floor. Before I can say anything else, I push past him and hurry downstairs. I reach the bottom of the staircase when I hear him say,
“Make sure to vlog this fight for all your little eleven-year-old fans, Noel!” Then he laughs, clearly thinking he got one over on me.
All I can think about is how big of a mistake his mother made not swallowing.
Chapter 2
Mom is no use to me. When she walks into the door, she throws her arms around me and rocks back and forth, damn near crying because I’m home again. It’s a strange feeling. Any other time, she greets me not with a kiss on the cheek but with criticism, always asking how my videos are doing and whether I’ve decided to go back to school or not.
“My baby’s back,” she says, cupping my cheeks in her hands and kissing my forehead again.
“Alright, alright,” I groan. I slip out of her hold and put distance between us. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Something about your brother?”
There should be a gold medal event for not cringing at that word. Garrett isn’t my brother. For twenty years I spent my life as an only child. The three years Mom and Samuel have been together doesn’t make anything different. Besides, if Garrett is my brother, then I might have to go all Cain and Abel on his ass.
“Mom, he’s not giving up my room! I know you said he could stay here while he was waiting for his house, but that was before I got back. I want my old room back. I was really looking forward to revisiting some of the stuff I have in there.”
“You still can! Just ask him whenever you want to go through the boxes in your closet or something.”
“It’s my room!” I say, trying not to sound like a shrill child. I know it’s not a big deal, but I shouldn’t have to ask for permission to be in the room I spent my whole life in. On principle alone, Garrett should move his shit and give me back my space.
“Noel, don’t start this with me, okay?” She squeezes her temple and gives me an exhausted look. “If anything, this is my house, so it’s my room. And since it’s my room, I’m letting Garrett stay there until he’s ready to go. There are plenty of sofas down here to sleep on, or you can take the guest bedroom. Either way, Garrett stays.”
I bite down on my tongue, holding back any venom. I shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t want the first time I see Mom in three months to be filled with fighting (even though I’m absolutely right and Garrett is being a massive prick). Rather than going back and forth, I press my lips together and look away.
“I love you, but sometimes you can be so entitled, sweetheart. You’re gonna have to share your things with your brother every now and then,” she says. As she leaves the living room, she kisses the top of my head.
Entitled.
For wanting my bedroom back.
This is a clear reminder why I never come home. No matter how right I am, somehow she’ll always find a way to side with him. She’ll tell me that I’m being selfish for wanting to keep the things we used to do alone just between us. I’m the bad guy for wanting to keep our mother-son brunches between an actual mother and son.
I could honestly scream, but undoubtedly, Mom would tell me that Garrett knows how to keep quiet, and that’s why he’s the best son ever!
Frustrated, I drag my feet into the kitchen, finding Samuel standing by the stove, one hand on the counter and the other on a spatula as he browns ground beef. He looks up when he hears me approach, a warm smile on his face.
“How’d it go with your mom?”
“About as well as you’d expect,” I mutter.
“Sorry, kid. I tried to tell her that Garrett’s had the room long enough, but she hit me with the usual response.”
“Her house, her rules?” I’ve heard that more times than I can count, and it’s kind of nice knowing I’m not the only one who experiences her favorite card in her deck of Mom-isms.
“Yup,” he laughs. “I’m glad you’re back, though. How’s your channel going? Elizabeth was telling me that you and Landry finally passed seven hundred thousand followers. Did your new series help with that?”
I’m genuinely shocked that he’s asked about our videos more than how much money we’ve made. It’s a nice change of pace, and while he finishes cooking spaghetti for dinner, we talk about some possible new series that Landry and I have been working on. Though he’s a bit older, he’s surprisingly well-versed in all the terminology, and he even lets me know that he used one of our discount codes to get himself a new toothbrush.
With how long I’ve been gone, I guess I’ve forgotten that Samuel’s a pretty good guy. He’s quiet most of the time, which I can appreciate from a filming perspective, but he’s also good company whenever I want to shoot the shit and just talk about life. Though I wouldn’t consider him a parent, he’s a father figure. If Landry were here, she’d say he’s solid.
Dinner is mostly painless since I spend majority of my time on my phone, scrolling through Instagram and Twitter while Garrett talks about what happened at work last Friday. Mom seems aggravated that I’m so removed from the conversation, but when Garrett starts to describe the raise he might be getting, her ears perk up and she’s sucked back into his vortex of awesome once again.
I opt to do the dishes after we eat while Mom and Samuel retire to the den to watch a movie. Landry calls through Facetime to run through some ideas, and it’s nice to finally see her face again. It’s only been a few hours, but I already miss her.
While I wash the dishes, she washes her makeup brushes, getting prepared for a video she’s filming on her own channel tomorrow. Last month she reached five hundred thousand fo
llowers, which is a pretty big deal for a Black makeup channel, especially since she isn’t lighter skinned by any stretch of the imagination.
“So, what are you gonna do about the bedroom situation? You staying in the guest room?” she asks, looking up at me as she swirls her foundation brushes against her cleaning tool.
“Hell no. That’s my room. He can steal my mom if he wants, but he’s not stealing my bed from me.”
She cracks a smile. “That’s my petty friend right there. Tell him his days of colonization are over.”
“Bye!” I laugh, shaking my head. “I expect a fight tonight.”
“I don’t blame you. First thing I did after dropping you off was head home and face plant in this mattress. That reminds me, have you started looking for new apartments yet?”
“Ugh,” I groan. In order to save money on the trip, I didn’t renew my lease and took what I’d normally spend on rent to put towards food, gas, and all the necessities. I figured I’d be able to crash at Mom’s until I eventually got my life together again, but with Garrett also being here, that’s proven to be difficult.
“I’m not even gonna worry about that right now,” I say. “One problem at a time, you feel me?”
“Hey, do what you gotta do. Let me know if you need help, okay? You can even crash here if life with Garrett gets too rough.”
“Bitch, I love you,” I say, smiling at her. “I’ll try to tough it out. I know how much you love your space, especially since we basically had a three-month sleepover.”
After we both finish our chores, I say goodbye and end the call, magically feeling better. Landry keeps me sane, I swear to God. Without her, I genuinely don’t know where I’d be. Probably a college grad working a 9-to-5 that I hate, miserable for most of the day. Hell, I’m not sure I would’ve even come out yet had it not been for the two of us making a pact during our senior year of high school.